


When in Rome

by marauder_in_warblerland



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauder_in_warblerland/pseuds/marauder_in_warblerland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a *delightful* catyuy prompt. In brief:</p><p>"I want a future fic where Jane gets her first Broadway lead and she’s not nervous until they tell her that Blaine Anderson has been cast as her leading man. She’ll have to makeout with Mr Anderson, oh god Mr Hummel is going to kill her. . ."</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Rome

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the illustrious tchrgleek for the beta!

Kurt gets to his phone after the first ring. He’s not worried, exactly. His father is fine and everyone else, including his husband at the kitchen table, is accounted for. Still, nothing good comes from phone calls before either of them have had their coffee.

He’s ready for an “emergency” on Rachel or Artie’s respective sets, but not for the wail that erupts from the receiver.

“I’M SORRY. Mr. Hummel? Is that you? Oh my god, I’M SO SORRY!”

“Excuse me—?” Kurt tries to cut off the sound, but the wailing rises, and he has no idea who might be apologizing for something on the other end of the line. He has well-worn methods for calming a Rachel, a Tina, or even a Sam (the latter of which mostly involves handing the phone over to Blaine), but without a name—

“I had no idea when I auditioned for the part, Mr. Hummel, I promise!” the voice cries. “My agent thought it would be a good fit, and she was actually right. I haven’t seen a part since Nabulungi in _The Book of Mormon_ that’s such an excellent fit for my skill set, but that doesn’t make up for— for” She trails off in a mumble about kissing and Warbler blazers. In that moment, Kurt suddenly remembers bright eyes and a broad, giddy smile.

“Jane? Is that you?” He leans against one hip against the kitchen countertop and squints into space, as though that might make her logic come into focus. “What on earth do you have to apologize for? We haven’t heard hide nor hair from you since Rachel’s wedding. You vanished.”

“You mean he hasn’t told you? Oh god, I just assumed—“ Her voice rises again as Kurt presses the phone against chest and turns, slowly, toward the kitchen table.

“Blaine, sweetheart?”

“Hmm?” Blaine hums back without taking the toast out of his mouth or looking away from the Style section in the Sunday Times.

“Is there something you were _maybe_ going to tell me?”

Blaine looks up from the paper, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Tell you? I don’t think there was anything I . . . Oh!” He drops the toast and bounds out of his chair. To be honest, Kurt hasn’t seen him this excited since Tina suggested disco karaoke. “Of course! I forgot to tell you that they finally cast my leading lady for the new Chuck Mee play and, hold onto your socks, it’s none other than our own Miss Jane Hayward.” He spreads his hands wide in front of his body, like he can already see her name in lights.

Kurt cocks his head. “You don’t say.”

“No, really!” Blaine nods back. Apparently, it’s too early for sarcasm. “I couldn’t believe it myself at first. But,” he pauses,  “how did you know? Is that Jane on the phone? Can I talk to her? We have to celebrate!”

Kurt  lifts the phone back to his ear, holding up one finger in the universal sign for _one more minute, dear_. “Jane? You still there, hon?”

“Mmm hmmm.” She hums back, and Kurt thinks that he can actually hear her vibrating.

“Why don’t you just tell me why you’re so upset, okay?” Blaine tries to grab the phone, but Kurt bats his hand away and turns to face the counter. “Just walk me through it, and we’ll see if we can’t figure something out.”

Jane takes a shuddering breath right into her receiver, and she sounds just like she’s 16 again, straightening her blazer before a show. “Okay, so at first I was excited. I was over the moon to be cast in a Broadway production straight out of NYADA. I still am, but then I remembered that _The Last Day in Rome_ is—um— are you familiar with the play? It includes some sensitive material, particularly in the second act.”

“Oh really?” Kurt tries not to smile as Jane carefully chooses her words. Papers rustle on her end of the call, as though she’s looking back through the script. For all he knows, she might be.

“Yes, very sensitive. It starts when our characters have to . . . well, they have make out for — _oh god_ — several minutes, before stripping down to their underwear and simulating an orgasm in the middle of the stage.”

“Right in the middle, huh?” Kurt can’t keep himself from giggling, but Jane is far too preoccupied to notice.

“Oh yeah,” she breathes. “The author is quite specific about that. We have to be right in the middle, and that’s not even the worst of it.”

“No?”

“After the  . .  um, the collective orgasm,” she squeaks, “we remove all of our clothes and run around the stage. I- I think we’re being chased by something, maybe a bear or bats perhaps, but I admit that I didn’t get far enough to figure out that detail. I got distracted by the naked running and the hopping with my former teacher and my former teacher’s husband and— _I’m so sorry Mister Hummel_.”

“Jane. Jane,” Kurt says slowly, holding out the hand that isn’t holding the phone like he’s patting an invisible shoulder. “Breathe. I’m not going to say that I don’t have concerns about the situation.” Mostly, he has concerns about the sympathy pain of watching them hopping around unbound, but Jane doesn’t have to know that.

“Of course you do!” she says, her voice shaking. “And you’ll see, I will do anything to make sure that you feel comfortable during the rehearsal process. If you want to be present or have veto power over any of my acting decisions, I’m sure we can work something out with the director. I just need to know that you won’t hate me every night for being in such an intimate position with your husband. I promise you, I am a professional.”

Kurt bites his lip, hard. “I don’t know, Jane. That scene sounds awfully _intense_. You are asking a lot of our friendship. I’m going to have to think carefully about whether I can—”

Finally, he has to hold the phone away from his mouth so that he can laugh into his palm, and Blaine takes the opportunity to swipe the phone from his hand. He dances around to the other side of the kitchen island and holds the phone up to his ear. “Jane? Is that you? Congratulations!”

Even from halfway across the kitchen, Kurt can hear the tinny echo of Jane’s panic, like running static under Blaine voice. “Are you excited for the show?” Blaine tries. “ . . . Yes, I understand that there is some sensitive material, but— . . .  . . No, I do think that you are ready for the challenge. I think we are ready for the challenge. Remember that I saw your final NYADA showcase and it was remarkable. Don’t you think—  . . . .  Wait, what do mean by — . . . . Oh, really?” He glances up to where Kurt still stands, smiling guiltily down at his own hands. “Is that what he said?”

Blaine raises an eyebrow and the corners of his lips twitch. “Jane, I can absolutely, unequivocally promise you that neither Kurt nor I will have any problem with you starring in this play. . . . Yes, I know that’s what he said, but he.  . . . So why did he say it?”

He makes eye contact with Kurt across the kitchen and smirks. “Well, Jane, that’s a valid question and, honestly, I think he was being a bit of an asshole.  . . . Yes, that is why I married him.”

Kurt laughs under his breath and walks to the kitchen table. As Blaine talks, in low, soothing tones, he drops into a chair and crosses his hands over one knee to listen to the rest of the conversation, a grin plastered across his face.

Blaine goes on, watching Kurt out of the corner of his eye. “Jane, honey, how about we continue this conversation in person? We can get coffee next week, or cocktails, and you can let me explain why _The Last Day in Rome_ is going to be an incredible professional adventure for both of us. How about that?” She must agree, because Blaine wishes her all the best and drops the phone, lightly, onto the counter.

“So.” Blaine rounds the kitchen island and walks toward the table, fiddling with the hem of his green polo.

“So. . .”

“It sounds like I am about to get much more intimate with one of _our_ former students.”

“And a solid portion of New York City, if her reading of the script can be believed.” Kurt tries not to imagine his husband jumping around in his altogether. He fails.

“Oh, it can be . . .”

Kurt opens his arms and allows Blaine to drop, unceremoniously, into his lap. “So, you are going to be. . . . jumping in the nude?”

Blaine groans and drops his head onto Kurt’s shoulder. “Apparently. Although I don’t think I registered what that meant until I found out that I was going to be doing all of this jumping—”

“And the center-stage orgasm. Don’t forget that part.”

“— with a young woman that I met when she was a _sophomore in high school_. I’m a monster, an ancient monster.” He nuzzles into Kurt’s shoulder and for a second they could be kids again, curling into a pile after a bad day. Any minute, it seems that they might hear Kurt’s dad walking up the stairs and have to vault across the room to separate chairs.

Kurt rests his head on Blaine’s and breathes in the scent of his hair gel and cologne. “At least it couldn’t be worse than the first time you had to go _au naturel_ on stage, right? Because this show doesn’t have Mark.”

“Mark!” Blaine snorts into his shoulder. “I almost forgot about him and about that awful off-off Broadway production of _The Paris Letter_. Can you believe that was only four years ago?” Blaine shudders. “He never did realize that the nude scene was not the time for improvisation.”

“Not unless he wanted a knee in unpleasant places.”

“With Mark, they were all unpleasant places.” Blaine’s shudder turns into a soft laugh, and Kurt feels his husband’s shoulders finally relax. “You know, Jane is right to freak out about one thing: _The Last Day in Rome_ is going to have an abbreviated rehearsal schedule, which means we have to show up on day one, ready to go. There won’t be time for a learning curve.”

“You’ll get her ready.” And when he says it, Kurt’s absolutely certain. Blaine might have given up the classroom, but he never stopped being an amazing teacher.

“Oh, I know,” Blaine says into Kurt’s shoulder. He shifts with a shrug, and when he looks up his smile can only be described as impish. “But if I’m helping Jane, who’s going to get me ready for those long make-out scenes and all of that gratuitous nudity?”

Blaine’s eyes ooze sincerity, and Kurt can’t decide if he wants to kiss his husband or dump him onto the floor. He rolls his eyes. “That is going to be a struggle. I _suppose_ I could work you into my schedule, especially if you have to run those scenes over and over again until they are absolutely perfect.”

“Oh, I do,” Blaine smiles. “I really, really do.”

The kiss is light as air. Kurt presses their lips together and pulls back before they can get into a rhythm. Half the fun is feeling Blaine strain to keep the connection as he pulls away, holding onto the touch until the last possible second. He could follow if he wanted; he could sit up, straddle Kurt’s lap, and cup his face in his hands, but Kurt knows that he likes cut-off-points, the teasing promises, almost as much the real thing.

Blaine laughs as they separate, his eyes still lingering on Kurt’s lips. “Please don’t ever tell Jane I said this,” he says, quietly, “but you are much better than that girl is going to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt:  
> "I want a future fic where Jane gets her first Broadway lead and she’s not nervous until they tell her that Blaine Anderson has been cast as her leading man. She’ll have to makeout with Mr Anderson, oh god Mr Hummel is going to kill her.
> 
> It all turns out fine, Blaine gets her over the nerves and Kurt is amused by the whole thing. All of ND (past and present) show up for that opening night. Are there any current/past Broadway shows that would be perfect for Jane and Blaine? Or would a “original” be better? 
> 
> BONUS: the show contains some partial nudity to further up Jane’s nerves because MR ANDERSON WILL BE NAKED AND I’LL BE NAKED, WE’LL BE NAKED TOGETHER."


End file.
